It’s an Esquire article on Frank Sinatra, written by Gay Talese;

“… a star land of little men and little women sliding in and out of convertibles in tense tight pants.”

Just, wow.


Study of a Figure. Piet Mondrian. 1911, oil on canvas.


Grey Tree. Mondrian again. 1912, oil on canvas.

mondrian gingerpot

And again with the Mondrian. Still Life with Ginger Jar II, 1911/12, oil on canvas.

I’m reading “Mondrian” by Susanne Deichler, and learning things.

I tried a different doctor on Monday, but Mondays don’t go well for me, and I kinda got up and left, and went to the chiropractor, who said WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR LOWER BACK LOOK AT YOUR NECK WHAT DID YOU DO!!!!!!! Um, it’s maybe my job? And then there’s the sitting at a computer part, too, like when I dink around on facebook and do blog posts. And play solitaire. Can’t forget that.

So then I go to my regular doctor, whom I love dearly but she’s 40 miles away, but she’s very understanding that I might try another doctor (okay, maybe she’s trying to get rid of me). But anyway, I tell her my lower back is sore and my hips are sore and my left hip is probably arthritis but my right hip feels squishy and I don’t like that.

Now, think about telling a medical professional that your hip feels squishy, and having your medical professional say, “well that’s probably inflammation.” NOT “what kind of bullshit is that?” This is why I love my doctor. Anyway, she tells me to stand up and walk. And then walk with my hands out of my pockets, and then stand up straight. And then she says “You are all kinds of bent.” Or something like that.

I guess I stand sort of like this;

(Bernini, by the way)

Illustration is slightly exaggerated.

So, it was somewhere in there that she put her hands on my hips and poked and said is this tender? and I said ow yes how do you do that? Do you learn that in doctor school? She told me it was something you just pick up. And laughed, diabolically.

I love my doctor.

Okay, off the computer now!

But I ended up at this article, discussing William Bougereau’s place in art history. (I enjoyed it, the author knows stuff, you might like it.) Apparently, the guy liked to make money, so he painted things that wealthy people wanted to hang on their walls. Also, he was an Academy painter. Doomed to bourgeoisie, for sure.

La Bohemienne, I think?

Except he did those other paintings.


Dante et Virgile.

les oreades
Les Oreades.

Take what you want, and leave the rest, I guess.

(All this is pretty much just a ploy to get myself and others to look at Caravaggio’s work again. I am so devious.)

So, I had a couple minutes to kill before a meeting at the library tonight. I wandered back towards the magazines, but was intercepted by the art books. I looked through the slim pickings, deciding which 20-lb tome I should check out when I ran across a book of Caravaggio’s paintings. It’s a beautiful book, marred only by the inclusion of words. It has a poor reproduction of this;


Sorry, huge, I know. but really, it’s so wonderful. A friend has those annoying praying hands up in his apartment, the official photograph of Minnesota or some foolish thing. I keep threatening to get an 8 foot replica of this and put it up. If you’re going to do religious iconography, do it right.

Anyway, the point of this story is that I was at the desk checking out, and I felt obligated to mention that Caravaggio is my official dead boyfriend. He’s obviously the type I am attracted to – Trouble, with a capital T – but with the added benefit of being dead so I don’t have to worry about getting dragged into something.

This might be the reason people stay just a little back from me. Maybe.

Unrelatedly, I’m reading “The Goldfinch.” Of course it took ten years to write. Example from pg. 160: “He was a planet without an atmosphere.”

That counts for 6 months, right there.


The door is open, the top is off my car, there is no slush in the driveway, the kitteh is surveying her world.

However, the first bug of the season flew in while the door was open. Well, the first bug known to fly into my house this season.

Nothing else much new here. I went way off my diet, and I am suffering and gaining weight, so all that has to end. I’m breaking out from my non-allergy to chocolate, so that’s been gone for 4 days already. It’s all the other stuff I have to quit again. But, it hasn’t been so long that I don’t remember feeling better. That makes it easier to try again. “There is no try. There is only do, or not do.”

To do, or not to do. That is the question.

Not the psycho “why is it 85 degrees out it’s only April” nice, but an actual nice May day, So I went out and did things in my yard, mostly trimming the incredibly long grass along the foundation and all the stuff piled up by the foundation. I thought about mowing the lawn; it really needs it.


I am actually a little embarrassed by all those dandelions, because obviously I am an immoral person with low standards and that is why my grass is full of them.* But, it’s been cloudy and/or raining for a week now, ending with fog this morning, and I have a reel mower that does not appreciate cutting wet grass, so instead I pulled out my folding chair to sit and knit for a while. And realized that there were a bunch of these guys;


Bitty teeny wild bees. Maybe 20 at first, but as the minutes went by, it seemed like there was one for every 6 dandelions. So I let them have something to eat. Them and the butterfly that stopped by for a bit. And I’ve seen the bunnies enjoying the blossoms, starting at the bottom of the stem.

And then because it was nice I rode my bike over to the co-op. I so love riding my bike. That will never get old, I hope.

(*Just so you know, I’ve already mowed this part of the yard twice, and the rest once. It’s just this week that I’m being an immoral person with low standards.)

And really they aren’t so bad. Well, yes they are, but I said I would do this, so I’m doing it. I’m not showing you the bad ones though.

after rembrandt

rembrandt two women

after Giacometti

Okay, this one is pretty far out there. But I was working with a pen, copying a pencil drawing. That’s my excuse.
giacometti annette

Of course, I was doing that on the Rembrandt too, and I’m not making excuses on that one. Somebody’s calligraphy pen, “Elegant Writer,” the ink breaks when it gets wet. Fun stuff. I like an awful lot of what I do with it. I suppose because it softens the rough edges, and fills in where I am afraid to go.

Also, I failed photographing them. I have a piece of black paper, just for this sort of thing. I will do my best to remember next time, okay?

Also, I do not want to put on pants today. I think I will have to suck it up and fix my jeans skirt so I’m not totally embarrassed to wear it outside the house. Yes, jeans skirt, as in whack off your favorite jeans and make a skirt out of them, as opposed to that going to a store and buying a skirt made from denim. I am true to my crazy hippie roots, and proud of it, too.

Also, I bought two books, 11 skeins of yarn, and seeds and plants yesterday. I’m what I am. How are you?

It’s been going badly. But did you know bears have silly ears?

brown bear -- flickr

Seriously. I googled “bear face image” and got a bunch of bears who are more or less menacing – But they all have silly ears.

In other news; I’m heading into an argument with Department of Vocational Rehabilitation. Daughter was getting set up to take classes over the summer, and then her case worker quit, and now the new person is all, “You’ve been getting services too long, you should just stick with your (eight-hour-a-week, going-nowhere) job for now. And then today we got a call from another agency saying that her job coach is being replaced – by somebody in the company she works for. And that might be all well and good, except we met with DVR (who is providing her current coach) on Friday, and there was no mention of it.

I am angry. Sometimes it seems like that’s all I got left, is being angry at one hoop or another. So then I go downstairs and pound on something.

By the way, The Comet is not forgotten. I’ve got the batting and the fabric for the back, but because more (complicated) is better, I’m waiting for dye because in the middle of this I need to try new things. I’m tired of it staring at me, though. And I’m beating on some old keys that I have, and I’m working with the spider form, and… The list goes on. My morning glories are up, and nasturtiums and pansies and basil. It should be warmish by the end of the week, so everybody can go back outside.

I think that weather-wise, it’s going to be an erratic summer. I have plenty of clear plastic, just in case.

We’ll see if this motivational tool works.

SAD1 bear

From a photo in “Orion”.


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